SAN FRANCISCO — The Golden Gate Bridge and Chinatown aren’t going anywhere, but if you’re
looking for the city’s celebrated street performers, they can prove hard to find.

But these buskers — entertainers who pass their hats for tips — are worth tracking down. On a
recent three-day weekend, I missed the legendary Bush Man of Fisherman’s Wharf (more on him later),
but I did spend time enjoying the likes of teen tap dancer and trumpeter MasterBlaster G, Al the
Balloon Man, Robot Bob, the Sardine Family Circus and others. And, of course, Kenny the Clown.

It starts with location.

Forget about Alcatraz, Lombard Street, Coit Tower, etc. Performers go to tourist sites where
there is a steady flow of pedestrians but with a public space large enough to hold an audience.
Forget about Chinatown — the streets are too narrow. (But some will try. I caught two buskers there
and neither was very good: a blue-faced “living statue” who could barely stand still, and, a couple
blocks away, a geezer who scratched out
Oh, Susannah! on a violin.)

Suggestions from friendly locals get you only so far. Union Square was highly recommended but
proved a dud. Ditto for Portsmouth Square Plaza and Washington Square, both on the edge of
Chinatown. (You can watch housewives practicing tai chi in parks throughout the country.)

Buskers I encountered tended to lived in the Bay Area but not necessarily in the pricey city
where they ply their trade. Given their sketchy income, they take public transportation. If their
act includes, say, juggling equipment or prop-filled suitcases, they want a popular spot near a
station.

The Embarcadero — the busy, scenic dockside north and northeast of the city’s heart — fits the
bill nicely. The commercialized Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39 are at one end, the Ferry Building is
at the other. Strollers throng the pavement and there are rail and bus stops along the way.

The Ferry Building vibe is less plastic. The structure is historic; it opened in 1898, survived
the quakes of 1906 and 1989 and quietly rotted away until the 1990s when it was restored to
Victorian prime. The interior is filled with boutiques; the back side is where commuters catch
boats that cross the bay.

The expansive Ferry Building pavement facing the Embarcadero is busy with vendors as well as
entertainers; the plaza across the street, next to the Hyatt Regency, is stocked with crafters’
tables and tents.

Another choice but less obvious locale is Hallidie Plaza, south of Union Square at Market,
Powell and 5th streets. The smallish patch of concrete has mass-transit stops and is a heavily
walked commercial area. If you’re a balloon-bender or boom-box dancer, the site is ideal.

Buskers often move from one location to another, and not just for more lucrative
crowd-sourcing.

The city wants tourists to have a good time, but doesn’t want them hassled. Street entertainers
throughout the city are subject to shoals of regulations, which can vary district by district.
Codes concern blocking the sidewalk, amplified sound, vending without a permit and more.

The Embarcadero falls into the city’s Port of San Francisco subset. While stating that “The Port
of San Francisco welcomes Street Musicians and Street Performers” because “live performances make a
positive contribution to the culture and ambience,” it came up with an official but optional
$500-per-year permit and a $215 insurance policy.

Bottom line? Police have wide latitude in deciding whom to roust or fine.

Seasoned performers are, accordingly, cagey. Say one of them manipulates a balloon into an
animal and hands it to a kid: A donation will usually be requested only after the six-twist doggie
is out of the performer’s hands, so he or she can’t be nailed for vending without a permit. Most
simply ask for “any kind of donation” to be dropped into a container on the pavement or being
passed through the crowd: Even suggesting specific amounts could bring trouble.

And buskers tend to be easy for policemen to spot. Drug dealers, on the other hand, aren’t known
for face paint or public juggling.

That said, Bush Man has unique hassles. He crouches low to the ground along Fisherman’s Wharf,
motionless and hidden behind a sheaf of sawed-off eucalyptus branches. He then jumps out to startle
unsuspecting passers-by.

Some potential customers — as well as wharf merchants — just aren’t amused by his act and file
complaints. Nine years ago, Bush Man stood trial on several misdemeanors.

If nothing else, his acquittal on all charges might answer the old question of how many clowns
you can fit into a jury box.